


Blinded

by suliel



Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Backstory, How the fuck does one tag, Oneshot, Past Relationship(s), Raistlin is kind of a dick, Seer, Unrequited Crush, what’s new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 09:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14306226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suliel/pseuds/suliel
Summary: Raistlin and Caramon detour en route to Solace to visit on old friend of Raistlin’s. It proves to be a very peculiar and niuanced interaction, as she is a blind Seer— and Raistlin the one who blinded her.





	Blinded

The cottage was small and hidden in an almost impenetrable thicket of dark trees and tangled undergrowth; it was only Caramon’s bulky muscles and tough exterior that was able to bulldoze through. Raistlin followed just behind, allowing his brother to trample a more or less clear path for him. It had been easy to convince his brother to let him take this stop— he’d only had to ask, and there they were, smashing through to the clearing at the center of the thicket.

It was quaint; small, thatched sparsely with straw, and devoid of any clear shape. It had been constructed from nature, unsplit logs propped against the twisty trunk of a tree and insulated inbetween with a dry clay mix. There was one small door, a garden for one, and a bath filled with rainwater outside.

Caramon stopped and turned to his brother once they entered the silent haven, curious but certain Raistlin would tell him what he need to know.

“Don’t speak at all,” Raistlin grumbled quietly. “When I enter, enter with me and stand by the door. Do not make a sound unless I say. This mission requires the utmost delicacy.”

Caramon nodded honestly, though it was clear Raistlin did not think his brother would be quiet enough in the slightest. Still, the red-robed mage lead the way to the door and knocked gently.

It swung open seemingly of it’s own volition, much to Caramon’s suspicion— however, Raistlin calmly ducked and stepped in, and so Caramon’s shoulders relaxed slightly and he followed suit, trusting fully in his brother’s judgement.

Whatever comfort his brother’s calmness had brought him instantly left him as he entered the cottage— for it had no windows and was black as the void inside. Swiftly Raistlin lit the cottage with his staff, and Caramon remembered his instructions, pressing himself against the wall by the door as he regarded the cottage. It was tidy, though bare, and furnished with only the bare necessities, without decor. There were beaten stairs that led up into an upper level on top of the sideways trunk that framed the cottage, the well-worn footprints only sign that the dark cottage was inhabited.

“Ela.”

For a moment Caramon wondered if it was a magical word, though, in the next, a woman came flying down the stairs into the main room.

“Raistlin!”

It became clear instantly why the cottage was pitch-dark as Caramon regarded the woman— her eyes were slashed clean through, from one temple to the other, rendering her completely blind. Still, aside from the puckered and twisted scar across her face, she was a homely kind of pretty, with waist-length languid ringlets of strawberry-blonde hair and milky skin heavily speckled with light freckles. Her nose was small, pixie-like, and turned up at the tip just a bit, and, paired with her heart-shaped face and small mouth, she seemed frail and dainty.

Raistlin seemed very familiar with her and allowed her to take his hand, which surprised Caramon— he had never seen his brother so comfortable with being touched.

The woman— Caramon could guess her name was Ela— took Raistlin’s hand in both of hers and held it gently, before examining it with a light touch, paying attention to every minute detail. Caramon noticed a few things, like how she wrapped her pointer finger and thumb around Raistlin’s wrist and then traced down to the tips of his fingers.

“You don’t feel the same,” Ela immediately stated, her voice soft and concerned. “Are you okay, my friend?”

Raistlin then withdrew his hand, not speaking. Ela didn’t mind and reached out to touch Raistlin’s face, and Caramon almost shouted— who was this woman, and why was Raistlin being so casual about her touching him? But he remembered his promise and tried to keep silent, observing with wild concern printed in his expression.

Ela traces Raistlin’s features with a delicate touch; from one of his ears, trailing across his cheekbones and nose bridge, across to the other ear. Then from his hairline, down his nose, brushing his lips, then down to his chin. She traced the hollows of his eyes and the width of his nose, then seemed contented with her examination, placing an open palm on his cheek.

“You went, didn’t you?” She questioned. “I know it’s you, but I can tell you’ve changed.”

“I went,” Raistlin replied. “I succeeded.”

“I knew you would.”

Raistlin raised a brow. “You still worried?”

“Of course I worried.” She answered. “No one could stop you going. No one could stop you succeeding. But that didn’t mean I didn’t worry that no one would be able to repair what damage you departed with.”

They spoke in soft, hushed voices, their words quick in succession, leaving no silences between each person’s words. And while on the surface level, most of their words seemed dry and shallow, Caramon noted the tender quirk in Ela’s brow and especially the softness in Raistlin’s typically morose expression.

And suddenly Ela snapped her head to Caramon, blinded eyes turning to him with unsettling accuracy.

“You brought another,” She commented quietly, suddenly growing shy and mousy. When Raistlin did not reply with the same instantaneous remarking as before, she spoke again. “I can _hear_ his heartbeat. And he breathes like an ox.”

Raistlin offered a dry laugh at her comment, though it was curbed by an equally dry and raspy cough. Caramon looked on uncomfortably, wondering if he should move forward or stay at the wall as Raistlin had ordered. His wondering was halted, however, as Raistlin then beckoned him over.

“I have told you of my brother,” The mage notified Ela quietly, showing a level of annoyance as he paused their more personal correspondence to introduce Caramon.

“Caramon,” Ela recited from memory, eyes tracking the larger brother with some level of apparent ease— however, she was not tracking by vision, but rather by the sound of his breathing, as she learned staring straight ahead in her blindness often made people twice as uncomfortable and pitying as when she pretended to track them.

“Yes, Caramon,” Raistlin remarked sharply before turning to Caramon.

“To learn what you look like, so to speak, Ela needs to touch your hands and your face,” Raistlin commented softly.

“Why hand and face?” Caramon questioned back curiously as Ela looked on with a slightly hurt and alienated expression. Raistlin glared as if it were the most obvious thing in the world before explaining.

“The shape and size of your your hand will tell her how fit and healthy you are,” Raistlin stated as gently as he himself could stomach. “And the shape of your face is as close as she can get to knowing what you look like.”

Ela gave a soft ‘tsss’ sound and Raistlin turned to her, apologizing quietly.

“I’m sorry, Ela, but he’s thick as a stump sometimes.”

Ela shrugged, and Caramon noticed her self-presentation had changed drastically from when she realized he was there. With only Raistlin on mind, she had seemed independent and comfortable— but now, her head tucked down, her shoulders rolled up and in, lips pressed together tightly, she was small, skittish, and weak. Blaming himself for her sudden humiliation, he ignored Raistlin’s cruel comment and extended his hand for Ela. Raistlin scoffed and rolled his eyes, before gently taking Ela’s hand and guiding it to his brother’s.

Ela took his brother’s hand with a measure of awkward reservedness, and quickly repeated the same actions as before, though this time instead Caramon noticed how she paid close attention to the muscles in his palm and his fighting callouses, rather than the turn of his wrist or the length of his fingers. She then moved to his face, measuring with her hands the shape and depth of his features, before moving away shyly. Raistlin regarded her for a moment and then turned to his brother.

“Caramon, step outside.”

Caramon didn’t immediately leave, and Raistlin regarded him with a pointed expression.

“Caramon. Get out.”

The hulking warrior finally gave in to his brother’s orders and exited, though he found a knothole from which to watch them from.

As soon as Raistlin knew his brother was out of Ela’s mind (he knew, no doubt, that Caramon was watching), he reached out and put a frail hand on her shoulder.

“What do you think of him?”

“He scares me.”

“Why?”

“Too strong,” She muttered softly, head to the ground. Her shoulders brushed her ears and her elbows clung to her sides. “Makes me feel— small. Helpless. Weak—“

“Ela,” Raistlin suddenly snapped at her, and she flinched, shaking her head and apologizing softly. What she didn’t see, however, was the hint of pride and twisted joy in his expression— for once... he was the preferred brother. His fears had been unwarranted. Ela had chosen him.

“Will you stay a while?” She asked softly once the hollow silence passed.

“No, we won’t.”

“At least— one night?”

“Ela, it’s only just past dawn.”

He lied. It was well past noon; but his and Caramon’s destination wasn’t more than a few hours walk from here. It wasn’t worth humoring her.

“Oh....” She started softly. “I... guess I lost track of time.”

He approached her, close enough that she could smell the scents of the spices hidden under his cloak; cinnamon and ginger stuck out the most, but underneath that were notes of myrrh and sage. The scent made her dizzy with memories, both sweet and bitter.

“What have you Seen?” He demanded softly, low enough that Caramon could not hear it from outside. His hands found her shoulders in as firm a grip as he could muster, before he softened his touch and his voice. “Ela, what have you seen?”

A shadow of bitter sadness crossed her eyes. Yes. Of course. He would never visit if it didn’t benefit him in some way.

But she couldn’t hate him for it.

“You make to depart on a perilous adventure. Old friends will be lost and new friends made,” She informed him softly. “And power greater than you have dared imagine will befall you— but again, for a hefty price. You will lose the support of many close to you.”

His expression was terse; but then he immediately calmed, content with the vision.

“You always had just talent with magic,” He informed dryly, calmly. The hurt in her expression grew. “And your Seeing has only improved since—“

“Since you blinded me.”

“It was an accident.”

She sighed. Yes. It was an accident. The spell wasn’t supposed to permanently blind her. It was a jealous move in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t practiced that spell, he shouldn’t have tried it at that time. She had been doing better than him, he was jealous of her talent, and while they were studying curses together, they’d argued. 

He didn’t remember what about. Neither did she. Cruel things were said that they didn’t mean; they used to get along so well. What had happened that morning to ruin it all, neither of them knew.

He made Ela cry and screamed at him. He snapped.

The spell had gone awry.

She should have only been temporarily blinded.

He remembered it vividly.

The blade of flames that erupted across her face. Her cries.

He regretted it immediately afterwards. She hadn’t told on him. She told the healers that she had been studying and she had made the mistake. He had helped her build this cottage with magic to repay her.

And then he had left her.

The awkward silence stretched on as they both relived the messy events of their past.

Ela spoke.

“You should go. They will be waiting for you.”

She didn’t specify who, but it didn’t really matter. He knew he was to meet his old friends shortly. It was fitting, really, that he had stopped to see Ela this day. In a way, he was revisiting his past in more ways than one.

“Take care.”

He turned and left, and the light left the room with him. Caramon was waiting. They made their way back to the road.

Ela sat in her cottage alone.

He never visited again.

Some things were better left unfinished.


End file.
